


Ocean's 10: TEN IS THE NEW EIGHT.

by izziedizzie



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018), Ocean's 8 (2018) RPF, Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies) RPF
Genre: F/F, Movie: Ocean's Eleven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:19:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izziedizzie/pseuds/izziedizzie
Summary: With Claude's sudden return, the secret seems too heavy for the Ocean's. Especially when Debbie's new responsibility is who's on the official firing line.Things could get very hard sometimes, but not when ten is the new eight.





	Ocean's 10: TEN IS THE NEW EIGHT.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. I'm Izzie and I'm breathing, happily.  
> Here's my very first story publish on this amazing site (do they pay us? because i feel they should!). Anyway, as you probably could tell, that's my version of what I imaged that the next Ocean's franchise should look like. Hope Everyone Loves Pancakes. - I'm just joking! I'm a dad, that's the tea, OK? Whateves, what I really hopes, is that Everyone Enjoy. See ya later. Oh, before I go, chat with me in the comments section, I'm not funny but I'll try my hard to be.

INTRO.  
“Mrs. Tess Ocean”.

 

"We deal with different types of people every day, Ms. Ocean. From swindlers to the more structured families that may exist in New York - if they are not myths, of course. Easy cases and complex cases, you know what I mean?". A pause for a long tired sigh is taken. The focus remains on the same woman behind an iron table that has both sides almost against the wall, in a way that the poor woman probably has to slip between the iron legs to sit in her worn leather armchair. Which, to be frank, must happen occasionally in this kind of arrant craft. The woman, anyway, is redheaded, as all the worst people Debbie knows are and despite wearing secondhand clothes, seems to be very young, probably in her mid-thirties. Nothing surprising since the place does not look anything demanding, too extravagant or even professional - not speaking exclusively of the clothes here. Debbie crushes her face while analyzing. After the complete sigh, the redhead raises a hand to scratch behind her ear and returns to what was said: "But if I may say, you, ma'am, are unlike anything I have ever seen before". 

Debbie Ocean paints a smile rarely seen on her lips and fidgets in the faux brown leather armchair that decided to sit 45 minutes ago. On second thought, perhaps the black one was more comfortable, but given the circumstances, it was a bit late to think about it. Her back already ached and the sweat from the impending heat that the ceiling fan definitely did not faze, crawled every inch of skin she possessed.  
Her discomfort, however, is well hidden by a pair of sunglasses from Ray Ban's new unisex metal line and also by a natural blonde hair wig. She looks different from anything she's ever been. Her hands tightened on a beige purse she had on her lap and her colorful dress that shines with the sunlight above the windows, made her sound as if she'd taken Tammy's place; the suburban mother's trinity had fallen perfectly upon her. She had even asked for tips from her old friend, which had been an extremely painful situation for her to do, despite valuable help. Either way, things tended to walk the right path to the ultimate goal she sought. And Debbie Ocean definitely could not appreciate it any more than she already did.

"Call me Tess, please", there is no form of nervousness in her voice tone, not even fear. On the contrary, in fact. She seems extremely aware that she will have what she wants in the end. What is most likely derived from the trust by which her leadership is known. Everyone who knows her knows what she can do. Knows her abilities. She's the best, after all. Probably even better than Danny. She looks like a champ. And the worst of all is that she really knows about it. And God, she loves it!  
After the sentence, though, her head tilts to the side and another sly smile twitches her lips. She's very confident by now. A lot of confidence.

"I'm sorry for your ex-husband, Mrs. Ocean. However, it's up to my craft to ask you, once it's been already sixteen years: Why only now?". The sound of a pencil slamming against the iron table can be heard throughout the room. The same object is suddenly noticed between the redhead's fingers and the scene inevitably reminds Debbie of three years ago when she was in a similar parole situation. Actually, almost similar.  
Her lips tighten quickly and she leans forward for the first time, taking her glasses out of the way of her eyes and carefully watching the woman on the other side of the cheap table.

Why now? That one was good. It was a great question. Why now? Why did things whirl until they burst onto Debbie Ocean's shoulders? Well, because. Apparently.  
It was such a good question as it was the only answer the newest millionaire would hardly find. What a kick in the gigantic ego of the cunning woman. She'd like to know, though. But she could not. Then patiently, attentive eyes and voice taking on a friendly tone that matched nothing with her facial expression, she clasped her hands in a plea and tend to do the only thing she knew 100% truly do: She manipulated.

"I'll be completely honest with you now, Miss. Tate. I will let my heart speak ... ". A line of sadness seemed to quickly take Debbie's face as she began. So well pretended that the redheaded woman made a point of giving her a packet of tissues, which Debbie Ocean gladly accepted. "That's all I've got left of my ex-husband, you know? I've been in love with him for all this time and his sudden and unexpected death has broken what's left of my heart. I know, I know. I should be taking the opportunity to seek freedom and maybe meet someone new, handing me over to fate or god knows what, but the truth is I will not be able to do it knowing that there is a part of him here. Not here". The broken tone visibly had caused something in the redheaded woman. Her shoulders sagged in understanding and her head swayed at the same time. Debbie wiped the fake tears that had rolled up through her chin and ended with the phrase that would surely snatch the game for herself: "That's what my Danny would want!".

Miss Tate looked at her unscrupulously for half a second or maybe an entire one. Her mouth half open in a demonstration of understanding and her red hair framing the freckled face. Debbie Ocean did not look back at her, too busy in a cascade of tears and sobs that purposely escaped her lips. To the social agent, she seemed broken and embittered. Honestly, a truthfully sad lady.  
It had been checkmate, of course. And Debbie knew. As a result of her first reaction, the red-haired woman stood up and turned to the archive just outside the window that illuminated her tiny office, searching for what the youngest of the Ocean family wanted. And when she found it, she left it in front of the woman, who pretended a priceless look of gratitude. If Deborah had not been so committed to crime, her insight as an actress would take her far, definitely.

"You just have to sign on the dotted lines and we'll going to get her, no further bureaucracy", said the social agent hastily. "Everything is going to be fine... Tess."

Reaching for the pen and taking a good look at the documentation, Debbie shook her head in endorsement. A sneaky winning smile crawling out of her lips, yet being held tightly. She could not help the look of superiority though.

"It's gonna be okay". She said, at last, letting another tight sob escape once more, validating her full performance.

It was no surprise when she, after all, got what she really wanted.


End file.
